


we shouldn't

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timmy Chalamet, Timothée Chalamet - Fandom, tchalamet, tim chalamet
Genre: A little fluffy, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy, Kissing, Making Out, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Two Parter, award show, awards show, celebrity award show, cursing, cursing though, kind of, mostly making out, part one, part one of two, some smut, two part, two parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: You meet Timothée on a film set, and you both are drawn to each other. But you really, really shouldn't give in. Should you?





	we shouldn't

**Author's Note:**

> anon request on tumblr: 'ok dirty prompts but lowkey cute: secretive smut during an awards show w timmy like at your seats OR like congratulations smut after timmy wins an award'
> 
> thanks for the requests guys i love you a lot  
> find me under same user name on tumblr xx

Don’t you dare. 

You stared in the mirror, finishing your lipstick. 

I don’t care how good he looks, or how good I look. Hands off. 

Okay, so you wouldn’t touch. Could you have a taste? You giggled loudly, shaking your head at yourself. No more tequila shots before the show. You finished, making sure your hair was secure. It was clipped back to one side, long and strawberry scented curls hanging down the opposite side. Your eyelids glittered in silver, and your nails matched, gleaming in the camera flashes. Long and jewel green, your train was short and fluttered gently as you moved. The dress was strapless and simple, and it was hard to not consider how easily he could take it off. 

Your arm was hooked through your brother’s as he walked the carpet, talking to anyone that approached with gentle gratitude and sincerity. Timothée was his co-star, and your brother had brought you along for the filming experience. It was the end of a long summer, and you kept telling each other it wasn’t a good idea. 

He would get you when he laughed, though. His laugh was so genuine, so sweet, and you wanted to kiss him every fucking time. His mouth was enticing, so you bit your own lip to hold it inside, not knowing he was doing the exact same thing. 

The crowd hollered and hooted when he arrived, and you had to step aside for them to take photos. He was old-fashioned, Hollywood handsome, classic and warm. His suit was velvet and plum, and you cursed him for making you want to touch him even more. Just one kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it? What would people say? Did you CARE? 

His eyes grew greener when they landed on you, as if the color of your dress reflected back on him. You hugged him affectionately, laughing when he lifted you off the ground. 

“I missed you,” he said into your ear, his voice tickling your skin. You trusted an instinct and pressed a kiss to his cheek, repeating the words in return and congratulating him. His arms around your waist tightened, and you made eye contact for a moment when he let go. Green and twinkling, you had to move away quickly before you pounced on him. His laughter echoed against the warm air, and you hid in the crowd as long as possible before entering the spacious and luxurious hotel. 

You held your dress as you walked, sitting at the table with Tim, his family, and several family members of your own. He kept making eye contact with you and making stupid faces, and your brother scolded you twice for laughing into the back of his suit. He was charming and alluring at the same time, and it was less than twenty minutes into the show before he was in the chair next to you. It was more than you could stand, but you didn’t know how he felt. It had all happened so fast, and then you were flying home as they wrapped the shoot. He had kept in contact. He had texted you every day, in fact, so you were hopeful. 

The show was entertaining and full of laughter, and then you were in his lap with your arms around his neck and your heels on the floor. Everyone knew. He was hard against your body, and it was hard to keep your hands to yourself. Did they know about what had happened on set?

************

Timothée’s trailer was dark and smoky, and you were rehearsing lines passionately with him. He was gesturing wildly with his hands, getting up in your face, making your lungs feel thin and weak. Did he have any idea how talented he was? You shouted back, deep in character, and the scene was supposed to stop. You had never gone further than the last few lines, because the characters were supposed to have sex. He proceeded, though, continuing the monologue and leaving you breathless. 

His hands were on your neck, but he was saying your name. Not the character’s. You said his name back, it rolled off your lips so easily. Your back hit the wall, and he kissed you hard with his tongue tangling with yours. You responded immediately, tugging on his hair and grinding your waist into his hard cock. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said into your mouth. You groaned and kept kissing him, gasping when your feet left the ground. He had lifted you up against the wall, holding you there as he kissed you. How could you ever want such a thing? Stop? Had you been rehearsing? You couldn’t remember.

He was fumbling with the zipper on his jeans when someone knocked, and he almost dropped you on the floor. You had jumped into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving him to handle himself. High as a kite. He was in your veins, now. You took a hit, and now you were hooked.

************

His award had been the first of the show, and you tried to remain somewhat sober. He kept whispering into your ear, making you laugh until you couldn’t breathe. You wondered if he was trying to be a tease, but when his hand began to gently massage your hip, you had your answer. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted, fumbling to pull your heels on. He was startled, letting you stand with questions on his lips. “I’m okay.” You made eye contact with him, licked your lips, and walked away from the table. Someone would fill your seat, wouldn’t they? You didn’t care. 

Would he follow? He fucking better. You waited a few seconds, moving your hips back and forth with accentuation. Glancing back over your shoulder, your heart hammered. He was staring at you with dark eyes, turning in his chair to watch you walk. You were about to exit the ballroom to the outside hallways when he stood from his chair, striding in your direction. The room vanished from view.


End file.
